


No Metaphysics on Earth like Chocolate

by StealthKaiju



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Elder Spock is a Bad Influence, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthKaiju/pseuds/StealthKaiju
Summary: Spock is not exasperated with the Captain's flirting. It is a logical decision to start drinking with his elder counterpart, and not at all as bad as drinking alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a quote by Fernando Pessoa
> 
> Apologies in advance

Spock would never admit out loud to feeling frustration or annoyance, or even something as petty as jealousy, but self-denial was also a human trait that did not adhere to the Surakian principles he tried to emulate in his professional and personal life.

In the privacy of his own head he could admit he was pissed off.

It would be easy to be annoyed at the Andorian ambassador who kept placing his hand on the captain’s – on Jim’s – shoulder, or the Orion diplomat who kept placing her hand on his knee as they sat and ate the meal hosted by the federation. Yet, Spock could not blame them, as the captain had made no move to suggest their actions were unwelcome. He kept smiling beatifically, leaning in and making jokes, being his usual charming self.

He could not blame the captain for being desirable, nor for his flirting. He did not belong to Spock. He did not even know of his affection for him. They were friends, compatriots, and worked so well together in battle it was if they were of one mind. Yet, they were not lovers.

So even if watching him flirt with others, be touched by others, was as uncomfortable to Spock as for a Terran rubbing salt onto a wound, he could not be angry.

Logically he could not be angry.

He did not feel like staying, nor going back to the rooms provided for him. As luxurious as they were, they were soulless, and he would not be allowed back onto the ship while maintenance was carried out. He thought about visiting Nyota, but quickly dismissed such a notion – they were friends now, much better as friends than paramours, but he did not wish to ruin her evening with his sour company.

As he left the dining room of the starbase function hall (off-duty officially and therefore within his rights to disappear), he saw his elderly counterpart (Spock-not-Spock as Jim insisted on referring to him) in the foyer, most likely waiting for a shuttle to the main hotel.

‘Evening Ambassador’ Spock said.  
Elder Spock’s lips quirked in a small smile. ‘Good evening.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You seem, to use a human expression if you will forgive the indulgence, at a loose end.’  
Spock settled into parade rest beside him. He did not consider lying – Vulcans did not lie – but he did consider ignoring the implied question regarding his emotional state and engineer the conversation towards less inflammatory subjects. Did lying to your future self from a parallel universe count as self-denial? Had there been a scientific study on this?

While he was musing, the elder Spock sighed. A human habit, and Spock wondered if he would ever be as lax to show such emotion to another. Yet, then again, it was only to himself.

‘Is it Jim?’ Elder Spock asked, his voice gentle and without reproach.  
Spock looked at him, positively askance.  
‘In my time, though there are no doubt differences, much of my emotional turmoil was due to the catalyst of my Captain.’  
Spock nodded. ‘I do not want to go into details.’  
‘I would not expect you to. However, if you wish for company instead of a solitary fugue, I am free this evening.’  
Spock silently contemplated this option. ‘I would appreciate the companionship, yet what I would really want is a method to stop thinking.’  
Elder Spock let himself smile. ‘I can provide that also.’

*

Kirk felt that he had done his diplomatic duty – he had been polite to some, flirty with others, and his cheeks ached from constant smiling – and was looking forward to leaving. On his own, no matter what the Tellarite emissary kept on implying.

He was too wired to want to go back to the hotel and sleep. He could play chess with Spock, who he presumed had already left. That would at least calm him down. They could talk about what they thought of the meal, what they made of the other delegates, or anything really… he could listen to Spock talk about anything.

He took out his communicator and set it to his commander’s frequency. ‘Kirk to Spock. You back at the hotel? Kirk out.’

There was a pause of a few seconds, long enough for Kirk to wonder if Spock had already started his nightly meditation. Yet, eventually it was answered by Spock, though he spoke far slower than normal. ‘Spock here. Yes I am back at the hotel, but I am with Spock-not-Spock’.

There was the sound of soft, honeyed laughter in the background, and Kirk nearly dropped the communicator in shock as he heard a ‘sshh, that’s what you are called now’ from Spock. A few more seconds and he could hear Spock sighing. It was surely the end times.

‘I apologise Captain, I am quite inebriated.’  
‘I thought alcohol had no effect on Vulcan physiology.’  
‘It does not’, Spock replied huffily. ‘Yet, chocolate does. And this drink is made from chocolate, whiskey and tigernuts, which is a Terran nut and not part of a tiger’s anatomy, though initially I was confused on this point.’  
Kirk rubbed his temples. ‘Spock, please put Elder Spock on for a moment.’

There was the sound of shuffling over the communicator. ‘Evening Captain,’ came Elder Spock’s dulcet tone, though even he sounded a little bit off.  
‘Please, call me Jim. It’s the least you can do, after getting my first officer drunk.’  
‘I am off-duty!’ called Spock.  
‘My apologies Jim. But you cannot begrudge an old man the opportunity to be a bad influence.’  
Kirk smiled though he kept his voice authoritative. ‘Aside from his intoxication, is he behaving at least?’  
Elder Spock hummed an affirmative. ‘He has been incredibly agreeable, even if he did monologue about the illogical aspects of Paddington Bear for twenty-nine point three minutes…’  
‘If he learnt English before he meets the Bond family,’ interrupted Spock, ‘why does he not speak with a Peruvian accent? What are his motives? How can we ascertain that they do not harbour sinister intent?!’  
Kirk laughed. God, he loved this man.  
‘I am coming to collect him now.’  
‘That is probably a wise course of action Jim,’ Spock replied.

*  
Vulcans were heavier than humans due to their higher density bone and muscle mass. Kirk had empirical evidence of this, as his first officer used him as support as they hobbled towards Spock’s room .Thank god for elevators, there was no way he could carry Spock up stairs. After half an hour (‘merely twenty-three point six minutes Captain Kirk’) he had managed to get Spock in his room and on his bed, and was now unlacing his boots.

‘What on earth…’  
‘We are not on earth. We are on a starbase, approximately…’  
‘It’s an expression Spock. And don’t interrupt when I am having a go at you.’ Kirk huffed, his hands on his hips as he stood up facing Spock.  
‘My apologies. Please carry on in your chastising of me.’  
Don’t go there brain, thought Kirk. He cleared his throat. ‘Why did you drink so much anyway? Is something wrong?’  
Spock looked towards the ceiling, and flayed his arms wide, dramatic as a Disney princess. ‘You were flirting. People were flirting with you. I was annoyed about it. I wished to cease being annoyed about it.’  
Kirk felt his blood turn cold. He was not going to listen to a lecture from his first officer about conduct unbecoming to a Starfleet captain, especially his intoxicated first officer. ‘Listen, if you are going to complain about my behaviour…’  
‘I am not’ interjected Spock, his voice soft and almost broken. His chocolate eyes looked at Kirk, and his hands fidgeted in his lap. He looked lost. ‘Your behaviour, as always, is exemplary. You are a credit to your crew, to Starfleet, but most importantly to yourself.’

Kirk was confused. ‘Then why…’  
Spock laughed softly, slowly moving to lie on his side on the bed. ‘Because others touched you, and though you do not belong to me, I do not wish for them to touch you.’ His eyes looked to the floor, then back at Kirk. ‘Because I was apart from you, when I wish to be by your side, in all things t’hy’la…’  
Kirk tried to remember if he had heard that word before. He was good at languages, he aced all his xenolinguistics classes, even if he hadn’t beaten Uhura’s records. ‘T’hy’la’ he repeated softly. ‘What does that…’

Yet Spock’s only response was soft breathing, his eyes closed and his mouth relaxed in sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter. Hopefully you'll like where this went.

Spock awakes with a violent start, sitting up in bed before he has even opened his eyes. The effect is disorientating. The chronometer said 1427; he has slept a full six point five hours longer than usual. His biochemical and hormonal systems are functioning at normal levels, though he is perhaps nine percent dehydrated. He has no recollection of the previous evening, from the time he left the ambassadorial dinner.

 

For all of a blissful ten seconds.

 

A barrage of images flood across his memory, like a montage sequence in those loud and unnecessarily macho Terran films Jim and Doctor McCoy often watch – a brown milky liquid that burned and soothed; Elder Spock laughing at him with only his eyes; leaning on Jim, his arm around his shoulder; lying on the bed, watching Jim, saying…

 

Oh Surak, now he remembers every word he said. ‘Bath’pa!’ he spits out, although it does very little to alleviate any of the shame and stress he is trying desperately to control. He paces, aware that his behaviour is un-Vulcan and not caring. He contemplates beaming back to the ship. Or maybe just staying planet-side, resigning his position by PADD and disappearing before he can be detained for dereliction of duty.

 

He sees a note on the bedside table, recognises the captain’s handwriting, next to a glass carafe of water and two painkillers specifically formulated for him by Doctor M’Benga. On it are the words ‘We are going to talk about this.’

 

*

 

An hour passed before there was a knock at his door, which had given him time to do his ablutions, eat and fail to meditate. He considered not answering, but that would achieve little. Jim – the captain – would no doubt use the communicators to find him. He opened the door and stood aside to allow the captain to walk quickly into his room.

 

‘Captain,’ Spock began, but Jim held up a hand. He walked to the replicator and got two cups of Vulcan tea, leaving one on the coffee table and sitting on one of the sofas. He gestured to the chair across from him, and waited until Spock sat down.

 

Spock knew how Jim looked in his command gold and dress uniform, but seeing him in black denim jeans and a soft blue t-shirt was too much for his already weakened control. He kept his eyes to the floor and waited.

 

Jim, partial to a little drama, sipped his tea in silence for five seconds. ‘I visited Ambassador Spock this morning,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘Is he well?’ Spock enquired, thankful his voice sounded steady.

‘He was apologetic, but no worse for wear.’ Jim replied, putting his cup down then casually reclining in the chair. Totally at ease. Totally in control.

‘That is good to know. I shall thank him for –‘

‘You’re both stubborn asses, you know that?’ Jim interrupted suddenly, and Spock looked up into cerulean eyes that were staring at him intensely. ‘I asked him what t’hy’la meant, and he refused to answer. In fact, when I refused to ask anything else, repeating the question over and over, he just sat there reciting pi at me. For ten minutes.’ Here, Jim leaned into Spock’s space.

 

Jim bit his lower lip and Spock wondered what it would be like to kiss it. What it would feel like. What it would taste like. He silently reprimanded himself, and willed away the green blush that threatened to spread over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

 

The tone of Jim’s voice may have sounded as insouciant as before, but his eyes did not leave Spock’s. ‘I wouldn’t have asked, but when I tried to search for it using Starfleet databanks and Vulcan Council approved teaching materials, I found that it was a Pre-reform High Vulcan term…’ he sighed ‘…but nothing else.’ His lips quirked in a mirthless smile. ‘Pretty typical Vulcan, Bones would say; highly accurate but giving no actual information.’

 

Spock wanted to run. If he was asked, he would not be able to tell the truth, but he could not lie to his captain, his friend, the one he considered above all others…

 

‘The thing is you have to read between the lines.’ Jim’s voice was softer, coloured by something Spock could not quite recognise. ‘When Elder Spock melded with me on Delta Vega, some… some emotional residue came through, though I doubt he meant it to, or even if he realised it did…’

 

Spock felt himself tense at that, a toxic mix of guilt and jealousy twisting in his gut.

 

Jim continued. ‘What they had, he and his captain, what they were to each other… I’m jealous of a dead man. Hell, I’m jealous of a man that didn’t even exist, not in this universe anyway.’

 

The twisting in his gut grew worse and Spock wanted to apologise, for not being what his counterpart was, for something that was lacking in himself, but Jim was unrelenting, more animated as he went on.

 

‘I mean, let’s be honest, I’m pretty fucked up. My mom left as soon as she could, and Sam got out soon after, and I don’t blame him, but gods do I hate him for it.

I have the ship, and I get to see things other people can’t even imagine, and I have a brilliant crew, and Bones is a great friend who looks out for me, cares for me like family is supposed to…

…but you know what, so did this other guy, this dead guy, but he also had this incredible thing, someone who loved him completely. Mind, body and soul.’

 

Jim moved to sit next to Spock, so close he could feel the man’s body heat.

‘And the thing is I don’t want to be _that_ guy, with _that_ Spock.’

 

Jim’s hand rested on the top of Spock’s bicep. He could have easily shaken it off or moved away, but Spock could find the will to do nothing but continue to meet Jim’s gaze.

 

‘I don’t know what t’hy’la means,’ he went on, his voice almost a purr, equal parts enticing and dangerous. ‘But I can speak standard pretty well.’

 

His fingers lightly traced over Spock’s bicep and forearm. ‘You want to touch me Spock? Then touch me.’ His fingers settled on top of Spock’s bare wrist. Warm breath tickled his ear as Jim leaned closer still. ‘You want to be by my side? I want to be by yours.’

 

Their lips were barely inches apart now. Jim’s fingers moved slowly over the top of Spock’s hand, massaging the space between the metacarpals. Spock could feel his heartrate increase and his blood boil, sparks of electricity at every point of contact. His eyes closed.

 

‘Taluhk nash-veh k'dular,’ Jim whispered, his breath mingling with Spock’s before their lips touched. They were warm and sweet and gentle.

 

The kiss was perfect. The ones after, even better.


End file.
